Gondolas for Beginners
by Artemis1000
Summary: How Lovino learnt to hate gondolas - and then learnt to love them. Feliciano is determined to give his brother gondola driving lessons, Lovino isn't having fun until he is. Italy bros family fic.
1. How it begins

Content Advice: Human names used. Beware Lovino's potty mouth and my fail!seafaring knowledge.  
Notes: I've never been to Venice, let alone steered a gondola. I hope I got it right, but if I didn't, tell me. Just in case, if you ever end up steering a gondola don't use this story as a how-to guide xD

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**Gondolas for Beginners**

First of all, one thing has to be made perfectly clear: Lovino Vargas isn't scared of boats. Nor is he scared of water or fish, no matter what his fool of a brother thinks.

He is the personification of South Italy and Italians have been using ships longer than he exists. They are a fucking _maritime_ _country_. Look it up in the encyclopedia if you don't believe him!

Actually, right now, Lovino Vargas finds himself wishing he had an encyclopedia, a large and heavy one. He would throw it at Feliciano's head, Feliciano would squeak, topple into the dirty water of Venice's channels if he was really lucky and it would be _glorious_.

"Ve~ but fratello's such a good swimmer! You have nothing to worry about!"

Feliciano looks ridiculous in the cheesiest Venetian gondolier costume he has ever seen, the likes of which he didn't even know exists outside of third-rate Hollywood movies. It would cheer him up, if he weren't holding up an identical costume in Lovino's size in one hand – and an oar in the other.

Lovino glares at him with the hateful force of a thousand suns, but of course Feliciano is immune to it. Idiot's too stupid to realize he's supposed to shrivel up and die, that's how stupid he is. "I'm not fucking scared!" he grinds out between clenched teeth and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He's not doing it. He's not.

"Please? Try it for me? Just once? If you don't like it, I'll never ever again ask you to do anything for me!"

Lovino narrows his eyes at the ridiculous promise. "You never last longer than five minutes."

"Awww Roooomaaaanooo!"

His spine stiffens in dread. Great, Feliciano's on to the whining stage, complete with teary huge puppy eyes and trembling bottom lip.

They are gaining an audience, too. There are tourists gathering around them, shooting pictures of his dumb brother and snickering at their argument. Lovino suddenly finds himself wishing he had taken the oar – it would be handy to beat them off with.

"You never do anything with me! I just want to spend some time with fratello…"

Lovino clenches his jaw. It's not going to work. It's not. Watch how it's not working, so save yourself the trouble of shedding crocodile tears, you manipulative little…

"But I won't wear the clown suit!"

Five minutes later, he finds himself on the death trap which sways and moves under his feet in ways boats aren't supposed to move.

Mind you, gondolas were created by a people whose collective intelligence amounts to Feliciano's. That explains everything. Lovino will never understand how he managed to bring forth great, sensible minds like the Medici or Machiavelli.

Yet deep, deep down Lovino knows he should humor Feliciano and truly, that is the only reason he hasn't taken the oar and bashed in his skull with it. Not quite yet, anyway.

The summer months are Feliciano's turn in the limelight.

In the 151 years since their unification, they have created many traditions, some of them well-loved, others well-hated. They disagree on the labeling of quite a few.

A constant point of contention is where and how they spend the time they don't spend in Rome. They have many houses all over Italy, at least one in each of the 20 regions, but sometimes Lovino thinks it would be easier if they restricted themselves to Rome. Not that he would ever want to do that, he would go on a rampage if he couldn't escape their nagging bosses.

As a rule of thumb, they spend the warmer half of the year predominantly in northern Italy. This gets a "not that bad" from Lovino, which translates to "the best thing since pasta!" in Feliciano's vocabulary. Even he can appreciate Feliciano's share of the Alps when he isn't freezing his balls off – obviously the best part of the Alps on virtue of being Feliciano's rather than some potato eater's or pervert's. Tuscany is fucking beautiful when it isn't crawling with tourists. This doesn't stop him from whining and complaining that his baby brother is too much of a wimp to take a little bit of southern heat.

Nevertheless, Lovino is a good sport about it.

For fair is fair and when the weather turns colder and wetter up north, Feliciano takes pity on him. That is when they move south. Lovino has a particular fondness for Naples, while Feliciano loves their rustic Basilicata cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Basilicata inspires him to landscape painting. Feliciano being inspired to landscape painting means that Lovino will be trudging along for hours up and down the damn Apennines, carrying a shitload of painting supplies, while Feliciano frolics about, searching for a piece of rock to immortalize. It will inevitably end up looking like every other rock he had rejected for not being sufficiently rock-like. Yes, Lovino holds a grudge against the Apennines and he's not apologizing. If he wants to hate his own fucking spine, he has every damn right to do so!

It is lively, crowded Naples Lovino enjoys and he would never admit it, but half the fun is sharing it with Feliciano. "Look, it's Castel Nuovo!" Feliciano chirps every time they pass by it. Every single time, as if he hasn't seen it a hundred thousand times already, as if he doesn't damn well _live in Naples_. He will coo over the stupid palace and over every single church and statue and park until Lovino is spitting curses at him in a desperate attempt to distract from the fact that his face is glowing with pride and embarrassment.

And… well… maybe all that mountaineering in the Apennines isn't all that horrible either, for at some point Feliciano will inevitably throw himself into his arms, kiss his cheeks and exclaim, "You are beautiful, Romano!"

Yes, Feliciano has made winter Lovino's favorite time of the year and for that, he deserves that Lovino makes him feel good about his half of the country, too.

Lovino Vargas simply draws the line at gondolas.

It's too bad Feliciano Vargas disagrees.

_To be continued..._


	2. A rowing we will go

"…and then you move the rame like this! Back and forth and back and forth! See! It's easy!" Feliciano laughs brightly and frolics around at the rear of the gondola as if he were dancing, making the fucking boat rock and crash into the canal wall and oh God they are going to die!

"I'll haunt you, I'll fucking haunt you!" Lovino threatens in a very manly voice because he is damn well not whimpering, make no mistake there.

That earns him a giggle from the oar-wielding sadistic demon who has replaced his sweet little brother. He joins Lovino in the passenger section of the gondola and thrusts the huge oar at him. "It's your turn now!"

He stares at Feliciano, stares at the oar and stares at Feliciano again. Hm. He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "No fucking way."

The pout, the wobbly bottom lip… It's a bit sickening to watch.

"Please? Please please please please please? I'll make you extra special yummy pasta tonight!" He pauses to take a deep breath and raises a finger. "I'll make you _spaghetti alla marinara_!

Lovino ups the glare by several hundred percent. "What part of no don't you get?"

Feliciano gapes at him stupidly for another long moment and then, surprise of all surprises, he actually gets it. Lovino can see it in the way his shoulders slump, his eyes dull and even the stupid curl droops. "I understand. I'm sorry. I just wanted…" He cuts himself off, biting down on his bottom lip. He's blinking an awful lot, too.

Under any other circumstances Lovino would snort and compliment him on his acting skills, except he gets the feeling that Feliciano isn't acting. He is a crap actor anyway. "You're pathetic!"

"I'd just wanted to teach you something I'm good at," Feliciano whispers.

Lovino huffs because that's just plain ridiculous, perfect little Veneziano is better than him at everything. Except they both know that perfect little Veneziano is also dumb little Veneziano whose grand achievement of the 20th century was to learn to tie his own shoes…

"It looks stupid," he insists; yet he knows that's a lame excuse, Feliciano makes breathing look stupid.

His brother peers at him from underneath long lashes with a newly kindled spark of hope gleaming in his eyes. "I think you would be really good at it! You're good with boats. We both are."

Lovino uncrosses his arms and crosses them the other way, he averts his face. The water is far more interesting than his brother's face anyway. "I'm going to look like a fucking clown… and I'll lose my balance."

"I'll hold you," Feliciano offers without missing a beat.

What he does miss is the fact that Lovino's face turns bright red. What maritime nation needs to be held by his baby brother when he's rowing a pathetic little boat? He has never had a merchant fleet like Venice's but he was raised by the Spanish Empire. "I don't need your fucking help! I'm a better gondolier than you!"

Feliciano hums a noncommittal sound that Lovino is going to pretend signifies agreement. Then he tilts his head with comical slowness. "Ve~ does that mean you're going to try?"

He grumbles and spits curses and glares. Nevertheless Lovino joins Feliciano at the rear right of the gondola with no good grace at all and turns his glare on the oar as if it were his personal enemy. Which it just happens to be today, actually. "Get on with it," he huffs, "you're wasting my time!"

Feliciano giggles sweetly, rubs his cheek against Lovino's chest and beams at him. He performs the dumbest little hop-skip-twirl victory dance without ever rocking the boat or letting go of the oar. Lovino would hate to admit it, but he's impressed. "You only have an oar at one side, so you have to be really careful! Don't push the rame too hard at first. When you push, the boat drifts to one side, but when you move forward the boat straightens again." That said, Feliciano places his hands over his own, adjusting his grip on the oar gently. "Yes, yes, just like that! Now push."

Frustrated with Feliciano, himself and fucking Venice, Lovino pushes with all his strength.

The boat moves. Mostly sideways.

Lovino's legs move as well, they buckle.

It's only Feliciano's steadying grip on his waist that saves him from swallowing canal water while he's doing his very best to shout every single insult known in the Italian language.

"Gently!" the idiot chirps. "I said gently. Ve~ caress the water like you would caress a pretty woman!"

"What the fuck…?!" Lovino twists around in his embrace to shoot him an unimpressed glare, but Feliciano ruins all his hard work with a dazzling smile.

"Now you pull the rame back – slowly! No, don't pull it out of the water, this isn't a row boat. Feather it under the water."

Lovino dutifully follows the instructions, only for the oar to pop out of the curved forklike arm it is placed in, nearly pulling him from the boat when the full weight of the wooden oar suddenly jerks at him. "Fucking Venetian crap, who came up with this…"

Feliciano tuts sympathetically. "That happens to beginners all the time," he notes cheerfully. "Put it back in. You can use all your strength for this; you have to work against the waves, the tidal current and the weight of the rame. Careful! Don't knock yourself out!"

"I'm trying! I'm fucking trying, Feli!" The water's jerking at the stupid oar and the boat is drifting sideways and why the fuck did Feliciano think driving lessons on the Canale Grande would be a good idea? It's sheer seething resentment that gives Lovino the strength to haul the oar back into the fork. He peers over his shoulder at Feliciano, impressed in spite of his best efforts not to. How does he do it? He has arms like matchsticks.

"Again~!" Feliciano singsongs. "Gently!"

"As if I were caressing a woman," Lovino echoes mockingly.

Feliciano, oblivious to the mockery, laughs in delight and lets go of Lovino to clap his hands.

Lovino wobbles, suddenly insecure without Feliciano's steadying hold. Yet he quickly realizes it's easier to move if he doesn't have to be careful not to hit his brother with the oar or an elbow. He moves the rame back and forth tentatively, getting a feel for the currents tugging at the oar, for the waves lapping at the boat.

Feliciano does another little dance routine that sends the gondola swaying, but Lovino can feel himself regaining his sea legs more and more with every passing minute. "You're doing great! Let's drive a bit. Head straight down the canal towards the lagoon."

"Hmpf," Lovino grumbles, not-so-secretly pleased. The smug smirk is a dead giveaway and he knows it, but he can't be arsed to care. "Of course I'm doing great, idiot. I'm a maritime nation!" And just like that, the oar pops out of the fork. Lovino has got to give his brother credit for covering up his giggles with a coughing fit.

"Of course I'm doing great," he repeats once the oar is back in the fork and the gondola back in motion. His dignity remains slightly battered.

"Ve~!" Feliciano trills, gives him a pat on the shoulder and sprawls all over the seat.

Lovino's cheeks flush pink from pride that his brother trusts him to handle himself. "It's just like rowing a boat," he huffs and ignores his brother's outraged protests.

Considering these are Feliciano's people, it doesn't surprise Lovino at all that there seem to be absolutely no rules on Venice's waterways. What he wouldn't give for the potato bastard's anal-retentiveness just this once… Gondolas drive on the right, on the left, in the middle, squeeze in between other gondolas and are all around intimidating, especially the speed demon water taxis.

Not that he would ever admit his fear, but Lovino doesn't want to be ground into a clump of human pulp and sawdust, thank you very much. God damn it, he's actually starting to have fun, too – which is yet another humiliating secret he wouldn't admit on pain of death.

Feliciano's head had been dangling over the edge of the gondola, now it jerks up to flash his brother an insulted look. He's not letting this one go. "Gondolas are better than rowing boats!"

"Are not," slips out before Lovino can stop himself. He scowls, annoyed with himself. So much for being mature.

"Are too~! Gondolas are romantic!"

So maybe he had been the tiniest bit distracted by the banter, but that huge fancy tourist gondola appears right in front of him from thin air. From thin air!

Nobody told him where the brakes are.

"Where are the fucking brakes?!" he yells as he starts paddling backwards frantically, which just sends the gondola into a frantic 360 degrees spin. Lovino can feel his heart suddenly beating a mile a minute as cold sweat breaks out on his forehead. His ten meters long monstrosity is utterly out of control and the rear is guaranteed to ram the tourist boat.

Pop…

The oar jumps out of the fork as if it's trying to abandon the ship, jerking Lovino in one direction while the spinning boat pulls him into the other one.

Then Lovino is suddenly the one abandoning the ship… headfirst.

His last thought before the shock of plunging into the water rids him of all coherent thoughts is that he's going to kill his brother.

To be continued...


	3. Dunking Romano

This is the last chapter, enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

The water is warm as piss and tastes about the same. Lovino flails his limbs around frantically and spits out water, very, very painfully aware that he's a soft unprotected body amidst what is going to be a spectacular collision.

Amidst fear and fury, he is only vaguely aware of the splashing waves, wood thudding against wood, Feliciano's yelling, another man's deeper-pitched bellows and then finally a pair of gentle hands wrapping around his wrists and hauling him out of the water.

"No harm done," Feliciano says with a cheerful smile and plucks a strand of algae out of Lovino's hair. "We didn't do any damage to Sandro's boat. His passengers were very angry but he told them the collision is part of the show! Now they've got an exciting story to tell at home and your dive is the best part of it! That nice Danish lady promised to send me the pictures she made, isn't that wonderful?"

Lovino is long since convinced that his brother has been dropped on the head when he was a baby. This is just another point for his list, but that does nothing to decrease his incredulity. "The bastard tried to kill me!"

Feliciano doesn't even blink. "His gondola is bigger. Bigger gondolas have priority."

"That's… that's… that a fucking stupid rule!"

"Ve," Feliciano says, looking comically surprised as if such a thing had never occurred to him. Which it probably hasn't, knowing him and his stupidity.

"Idiot!"

Feliciano ignores the insult in favor of eyeing him expectantly. "Aren't you going to take back the oar?"

"Fuck you." Lovino shoots him a disgusted glare as he peels off his algae-covered shirt. Not that it's going to do much good; he's soaked from head to toe. "I've had it with your fucking driving lesson!"

His brother tilts his head to the side and utters a bewildered coo. "So you're going to give up?"

Lovino's jaw drops in helpless outrage. "I… I'm not…" He exhales noisily, balls up his shirt and throws it at Feliciano's face. "Fuck you!"

"Littering the canals isn't nice," Feliciano chirps as he hands back the oar.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll light another candle in the church."

Feliciano opens his mouth as if he's next going to berate him for making fun of the church, he's such a fucking Boy Scout today, but then he closes it again with a snap and retreats to the comfortable bench.

Lovino wipes off his glibbery hands on his equally glibbery pants and grasps the oar in a death grip. He scowls at the stupid fork thing, silently daring it to cause him anymore trouble. Feliciano loves his brother more than his boat. He would forgive him for setting it on fire… eventually.

When the frequency of his mishaps reduces it might be a sign he's finally gotten the hang of gondola steering, but Lovino prefers to believe that the boat has been cowed into submission.

Half an hour later, Lovino feels as if he'd been doing a week of push-ups under Germany's command.

"I'm thirsty!" Feliciano chirps. "Let's take a break at the café over there!"

Lovino gives Feliciano a questioning look, his brother responds with nothing but a blithe smile. Feliciano had brought a picnic basket full of foodstuffs and drinks. Lovino is so grateful he could cry.

He surrenders the rame graciously to Feliciano for the docking maneuver and then grumbles some more about his clothes being utterly ruined while his brother navigates them into the narrow space between two huge gondolas.

They get a bottle of soda each and retreat to the gondola, legs swinging over the edge of the boat as they dangle their bare feet in the water. The water's disgusting and dirty, but after that involuntary bath Lovino figures he can't get any dirtier.

"Ve…" Feliciano sounds far too casual for it not to set off every single warning bell in Lovino's head. "What are we going to do tomorrow?"

"I don't care what you do," Lovino grumbles, ducking his head to hide his red cheeks, "but I'm taking your boat!"

There is a moment of stunned silence, then a whoop and a pair of arms squeezing him as if he were a teddy bear. "This is going to be the best vacation ever! And tomorrow I'll teach you to sing my gondolier songs, too!"

Lovino Vargas would never wear the costume, nor would he sing any dumbass songs. Not this year, anyway.

But whoever says that he isn't the best gondolier Venice has ever seen gets a kick in the shins.

**The end**


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